


Stitches

by lunareclipse06



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: A happy Pyro is a good Pyro, Burns, Demo is hardly in this, I can’t fucking accent properly, I don’t know how to write good, I dunno anymore, I have been working on this for weeks, I really like Pyro, Other, Pyro has no gender, Scars, Self-Hatred, Self-Love, Spy is an ass, Stitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 18:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15273438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunareclipse06/pseuds/lunareclipse06
Summary: Spy took a tight hold on the mask and began pulling it off. The other mercenaries stared, not doing anything to stop the male.As soon as the dark mask was off, the eight mercenaries stared at the person in front of them.“Dear god...”





	Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> Random attempt at a story. Sorry. I’m bad at accents. I tried.  
> Also, this is a random scenario. Kurloz Makara inspired me.

Mumbles. That’s all they heard. The only noises that came from the masked ‘thing’ the mercenaries called the Pyro. They all wondered what was under that mask.  
Scout was always quick to assume that the Pyro was an alien. His ideas were usually shut down. Heavy normally said that they were a normal human. His idea was usually agreed with. They each had tried to get the masked individual to remove the gas mask, but with no luck.  
Ideas were running slim, and no new ones were being brought up.  
That was until the Spy smirked, you know, that sly smirk that anyone with an idea gets.  
“We could forcefully remove the mask.”  
The room went quiet. The only sounds being heard was breathing. Heavy spoke next.  
“It will hurt the Pyro?”  
The Spy chuckled.  
“Non. All we need to do is hold the Pyro down and remove the gas mask. Simple.”  
They each glanced at each other. Scout broke the strange silence.  
“Ya sure we should do that, Spy?”  
Before the Frenchman could respond, the loud voice of the Soldier shook all of them.  
“Of course we should do that, you toothpick!! That maniac shall no longer hide its face from us!!!”  
The Spy exhaled from his cigarette.  
“Then it is settled, gentlemen. We will see the Pyros face.”  
The frenchman smirked, stood up and began to leave the room. The seven mercenaries sat in silence as the Frenchman’s footsteps echoed off the walls. 

Pyro, on the other hand, didn’t know of their teammates plans. They merely coloured on paper, using what one would consider to many materials (crayons, markers, ballpoint pens they stole from Medic, pencils that were almost at their end with little to no eraser, and a pretty fountain pen they managed to steal from Spy), in an array of both neat and messy lines in various colours. It was a group picture of all of their friends. Pyro was finishing up drawing Soldier when a few knocks at their rooms door interrupted them. They got up carefully, not wanting to trip over an array of crayons. They stepped over the wax sticks and opened the door, where the Scout stood. Pyro made a cheerful noise, while Scout looked unsure. The Bostonian male forced a smile.  
“Hey Mumbles. We was gonna celebrate our newest victory. Ya wanna come?”  
More cheerful mumbles emitted from Pyro. Scout smiled in return.  
He opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut; only to begin walking to the Medics office. Pyro followed happily, but their mind was racing. They’ve not gotten a win in some time. They shrugged it off and followed the younger male.  
The Scout stopped in front of Medics office, before taking a deep breath and opened the doors. Pyro followed Scout into the room, looking around. No one was there. Pyro watched the Scout sigh heavily.  
“I’m so sorry ‘bout this, Mumbles.”  
Pyro tilted their head in confusion. Why was Scout apologizing.  
Scout took a deep breath before shouting.  
“Now!”  
Large arms wrapped around Pyro. They were immediately brought into a panic.  
These were Heavys arms. And this was not a hug.  
The other six mercenaries came into view. Spy approached Pyro, his gaze fixed on the gas mask.  
“Mon amie, this is merely for your own good.”  
Pyro tried to move their head out of the frenchs reach, but failed rather miserably.  
They were hyperventilating and practically on the verge of tears.  
Spy took a tight hold on the mask and began pulling it off. The other mercenaries stared, not doing anything to stop the male.  
As soon as the dark mask was off, the eight mercenaries stared at the person in front of them.  
“Dear god...”  
The Pyro most definitely was female, but had some masculine features. Their blue eye was brighter then their uniform. Their hair went down to their chin and was pure white, like fresh snow, and their skin was so pale that it almost matched.  
There were two features of them that scared the mercenaries the most.  
The first was they had severe burn scars running across the left side of their face and down their next, possibly going down farther, with their left eye being rendered useless and blind. But the final part of Pyro would most likely scar the mercs. Pyros mouth was sewn shut. Thin black thread stitched far to tightly. It looked infected.  
Large tears soon streamed down Pyros cheeks. They still tried to squirm out of Heavys grasp. Heavy continued to hold onto the smaller, tightening his grasp slightly.  
The Engineer backed away from the group. He had to do something. A small idea popped up. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had to try.  
No one could take their eyes off of the Pyro. They were all rendered speechless. They all watched the Pyro in their panic, doing nothing to help.  
The Engineer pushed his way to Pyro, fixated on his plan. Pyro momentarily froze when they saw the Engineer pull out a pair of thread scissors.  
Engineer nearly stabbed Pyro as they thrashed in Heavys arms, doing everything in his limited power to avoid the scissors. Engineer sighed, grabbing Pyros face to stop them from moving.  
Engie felt his heart sink when Pyro looked at him with pleading eyes, begging him to stop. He got his composure rather quickly.  
“Now, stop your belly achin’, boy. You’ll be fine, ah promise.”  
Pyro whimpered in fear as the Engineer brought the scissors to the stitching. They could feel the cold metal sliding against their skin.  
They shut their eyes in fear, squeezing them tighter as they felt the scissors close on one of the seems, loosening the thread. Then another. And another.  
All the thread was cut. Engie slowly pulled the remaining thread from the tallers mouth. It bleed softly, thin lines of crimson dripping into their mouth and down their chin.  
Sniper adjusted his aviators, glancing away from the smaller.  
“Let ‘em go,” he muttered.  
Heavy gave the Sniper a slightly confused look, before dropping Pyro.  
Pyro collapsed on the ground, propping themself up with their palms and knees.  
The eight mercs could see the tears and blood dripping off the others face.  
Scout spoke.  
“Can ya even speak?"  
Medic raised his hand to smack the boy upside the head but froze. Could the Pyro speak? Did they have the capability to do so?  
So many questions raced through the doctors mind, that he barely heard the unfamiliar voice.  
"S-sorry.."  
The eight males whipped their heads to face the voice. It was the Pyros. They spoke. They fucking spoke.  
"Why is little Pyro apologizing?"  
The Russian asked the smaller, slight concern tinting his voice. Heavy knelt down, attempting to help Pyro to their feet. Pyro flinched away from the largers touch. The Russian frowned, furrowing his brows, only to grab the smallers arms and pull them to their feet.  
Pyro swayed on their feet, trembling heavily. They breathed heavily, tears staining their cheeks.  
“Shoulda told you... but I didn’t... sorry...”  
Pyro muttered their words, keeping their gaze on the floor.  
“So.. uh.. why’d ya do it?”  
Scout muttered his question, trying to keep his gaze away from the others still bleeding mouth.  
Pyro took a deep breath, wincing when they felt their wounds moving.  
“I was never able to speak my mind.. always interrupted and stuff... so I stitched my mouth to stop being interrupted... it worked..”  
The eight were baffled by the others words. Did they do this? How long have they been like this?  
A familiar German accent filled eight pairs of ears.  
“I must change zhe subject, as I am curious. Your scars, do zhey go farther down?”  
Pyro processed the doctors words, before solemnly nodding.  
“Hmm. May I see zhem?”  
Pyro nodded again, very hesitantly. They reached up to the collar of their suit and began unzipping it. Once they were far enough, they slipped their arms out of the sleeves and tied it around their waste.  
They wore an off white shirt, with a few cuts and stains in it due to usage. They could see the left side of the Pyros chest was burnt, along with their left arm. The burn went all the way from their should to the tips of their fingers. They wrapped their arms tightly around their waste, a fearful gaze resting upon their scarred face.  
“Zey... are healing. Quite vell actually. You’ve been taking care of, zhem?”  
Medic inquired, making slight eye contact with the Pyro. They nodded, keeping their eyes away from the other males.  
Heavy rested his large hand atop of Pyros white hair.  
“Little Pyro has nothing to worry about. We keep Pyro safe. We are team.”  
A smile appeared on the Russians face. Pyro smiled back. Scout grinned.  
“Yeah! An’ if anyone tries to mess with ya, we’ll kick their ass! I’ll obviously be the best at that, but ya get the point.”  
Soldier nodded, his helmet shaking.  
“AFFIRMATIVE, PRIVATE! We will fight, as we do each and everyday!”  
The others nodded, slight smiles on their face.  
Engie rested a hand on Pyros shoulder.  
“Parter, we don’t care ‘bout your scars. We’re teammates. We’re all fuckin’ weird.”  
He smiled at the firebug.  
Pyro grinned.  
One by one, each mercenary left the medbay, leaving Medic and Pyro.  
Medic smiled sweetly.  
“Fräulein Pyro, if you need anyzhing, you know vere to find me.”  
And with that, Medic walked away. 

Pyro smiled once more. They were loved, and they finally learned to love their scars. They had a family, and they loved them. 

 

Their amalgamation of a messed up family. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wait. Their fuckin’ mouth is still bleeding.


End file.
